A Good Man
by KaliShu
Summary: "Five First Kisses Daryl Didn't Particularly Care For...And One He Very Much Did"  TWD kinkmeme prompt.  Daryl/Carol.


**A/N:** So I sat down last night to write some more on A Time for Healing and this came out instead… oops? Based off a prompt on the twd kink meme asking for "Daryl/Multiple – Never Been Kissed: Five First Kisses Daryl Didn't Particularly Care For...And One He Very Much Did"

**Warnings:** near non-con combined with incest in the third 'kiss'(Merle/Daryl - neither actually happens, and I'd say it's about the same level of non-con as the Shane/Lori scene in the CDC, but intentions are hinted at so if this is trigger for you, beware), and oh my god misogynistic language in that part as well. Overall, way harsher than what I usually write. I can only hope the ending makes up for it… Rating for language and implied intent for non-con.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Walking Dead and no profit is being made off this fanfiction.

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><p><strong>A Good Man<strong>

The first time he was kissed was the first time his heart was broken.

He didn't understand it, didn't know what was going on. But his Daddy was gone, had been for days, and Merle was at that school he had to stay at for months at a time, when Momma started throwing her things into a big suitcase.

He grabbed onto her leg as she started to walk out the door, and between the big black suitcase and him holding on tight she was forced to stop.

She crouched down in front of him and clutched him to her chest for a moment. Her blonde hair tickled his nose, and it was something he wasn't used to since she'd never really held him before. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and it was his first and only kiss from her.

"Your Daddy's a son of a bitch, and your brother's fucking out of control, but you've got a chance," she told him. "Grow up to be a good man, show your Daddy and your brother what sacks of shit they are. Nana'll take care of you."

She left while he was too busy crying to try to stop her.

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><p>The second time, he didn't realize she was toying with him until it was too late.<p>

It was going to be his first real kiss, and he'd finally be able to brag to Merle about how the head of the cheerleading team had kissed him behind the bleachers in front of all her friends.

His breath caught in his chest as she leaned closer to him. Her cheerleading uniform was formfitting and a little too short, showing off the barest hint of her flat stomach. The skirt was a little too short too, and he'd been looking at her bloomers when she bent over to get her books out of her locker for the past week.

"I've got something to tell you," she breathed into his ear, her perfect, made-up lips sending a thrill through him without even touching him.

He knew if he tried to talk now he'd make a fool of himself, his voice cracking or him just stuttering, so he stayed silent. Instead, he made himself look at her, lips equal with hers so when they finally kissed it would be smooth and beautiful and everything they'd both ever dreamed of.

She barely even touched him, her lips brushing against his cheek before she hopped away with a girlish giggle. "Oh my god, I can't even do it. He's just too gross," she said to one of her friends who had been standing in the circle around him. "Can't you at least dare me to kiss one of the good guys in this school next time?"

They'd all laughed then and returned to their side of the gym, leaving him standing there alone and humiliated. One of the rich kids who played basketball on the courts every lunch hour and hung out with the cheerleaders on a regular basis elbowed his friend in the arm and pointed at Daryl, and before he knew it Daryl found himself in the principal's office with bloody knuckles and a 3-day suspension.

He couldn't go home because Merle would either make fun of him or beat the shit out of him, and he couldn't stay here either, even if they let him, because the other students were worse to him than Merle ever could be. So he went to the only place he could think of.

Nana didn't try to kiss him hello, and for that he was grateful. But the tiny old woman who had been his refuge for most of his childhood gave him a big hug and fed him homemade mac and cheese and collard greens and let him stay in her guest bedroom for nearly a month without question before his brother came and dragged him back home.

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><p>The third time was the worst.<p>

Merle was high as hell on Daryl didn't even know what, only knew that it had to have been more than one thing because Daryl had seen his brother do a lot of different drugs before, and none of them had ever made him act like this.

He heard his brother talking absently to himself before he even entered the front door, and tried to sneak quietly around him and escape to their bedroom, but Merle had always had sharp hearing and had been twitchy and observant as hell since he'd done his time in the army.

"That you baby bro?" Merle asked, sliding down further on the beat up old couch so he could look over the back. "C'mere and keep ole Merle company. Damn bitch done walked out on me. Fuckin' ho, getting' me all worked up then stormin' out o' here like she's more'n just a dumb skank."

Daryl sighed and reluctantly circled around to sit in the rocking chair by the wood stove, careful to keep as far away from Merle in this state as he could. He had more than one scar to attest to the fact that Merle didn't pull his punches when he was high.

Merle didn't seem to be in a violent mood, just a frustrated one. "Skank ass hos, fucking cunts, thinking they're all high and mighty. Like I couldn't pound that little bitch into oblivion and back. Fuck her, she don't know what she's missing. No siree, I'd give her the fucking ride of her lifetime."

Merle eyed him with that look, the one that meant one of them was going to get a beating or go to jail or both. "They all said you was pretty. When you came to visit me. Had to beat the shit out of them, tell 'em my baby bro wasn't ever gonna be anybody's prison bitch. Had to put the fear of god into 'em. Too fuckin' pretty for your own good, they'd say. Even after I kicked their asses for you."

Daryl scowled. "Fuck you Merle, I ain't pretty."

"Nah, you're ugly as fuck little bro. 'S why you never get no pussy. Not like ole Merle."

"Like you got pussy tonight?" Daryl taunted and it was the wrong thing to say. Merle's eyes hardened and the grin disappeared from his face.

"Maybe I didn't get the pussy I wanted, but I see one right here. Pussy that thinks he can start running his mouth off to his kin. That's the kind of pussy that needs to get put in its place."

Merle was on top of Daryl before he could even blink, and Daryl should have known Merle had mixed some sort of stimulant into whatever he'd gotten into by the way he'd been practically vibrating on the couch, hyper aware of everything around him and rubbing his crotch like there was a particular itch he needed to scratch.

"Is that what you is, little bro? A pussy to be used, a little fucking bitch like they all used to say?" And Merle grabbed his chin, tried to kiss him on the lips, but Daryl twisted away and the kiss landed wet and sloppy on his cheek. Merle made a sort of frustrated noise and started to try again, and Daryl felt fear wash over him and let it control him like he never had before.

Daryl kneed his brother hard in the crotch, took a swing to Merle's head when his brother was hunched over, cursing Daryl and letting him know just how he was gonna pay for that. The blow dropped Merle to the floor and Daryl took that opportunity to run out, jump in his pickup and get the hell away. Whatever his brother had taken had him already up and moving, and Daryl didn't need to look back to see the murder in his brother's eyes. He'd seen that look plenty before and it never ended in anything good.

He could hear Merle hollering after him from the doorway as he sped off down the drive. "Think you're fucking better than me little bro? Think you're good or somethin'? You ain't nothing! Worse'n dirt! Little shit!"

He knew now that Nana had her own troubles and that Pappy had been sick for awhile, so rather than bother her he spent the night in his pick-up on the shallow pullout of a forest road, turning the thing on every once in awhile when he shivered awake to run the heater and warm up the inside. And he slept there the next night, too, just in case Merle still needed time to calm down.

Daryl never knew if Merle remembered that night or not. Neither of them ever said anything, even after he returned home silent and twitchy and jumpy as hell. He'd never say anything because Merle was his blood, and he knew Merle didn't mean it and that he should have known better than to taunt Merle in his intoxicated state. He knew it was his fault, so Daryl felt guilty when he couldn't help but wish that Merle would just get the hell out of his life.

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><p>The fourth time might have been the hardest.<p>

Merle said they should go, hide out in the woods, wait until this was over. The dead were fucking walking and they'd shot at least twenty of them who had wandered onto the property in the head over the last three days. There were plenty of places you could get lost in Georgia, and not many people knew about them. "Fuck them all, we don't need them. Just you and me baby bro. Like it should be."

Daryl thought of their old hound dog, of what had been left of him once their dad and his girlfriend were through. He thought of taking that shovel to his dad and how his dad had kept on coming, reaching for him with strangely intact fingers even though his insides had been hanging over the remains of his pants, until Daryl whopped him upside the head with the shovel and he'd dropped lifelessly to the ground. He thought about the way Merle had put the wood axe through Cheri's head, and then through the hound dog's just in case the poor thing got up again like dad and Cheri.

"Okay," Daryl nodded, beginning to throw some of their gear into a duffle. He could see the wisdom in Merle's words. "But we gotta go get Nana first."

"The fuck we want to drag around an old woman for?" Merle asked. "She'll just slow us down."

Daryl didn't even realize he was moving until Merle was pinned against the kitchen wall, Daryl's hunting knife at his throat. "She fucking raised us, you shit. We don't leave her to die. She's kin even if she ain't blood. She's more kin than dad ever was."

Merle just chuckled, the movement causing the sharp edge of the knife to cut a shallow slice on the skin of his throat. "Chill, Darlena. We'll go get your mommy. You just keep on packing while ole' Merle gets the truck ready. Don't forget your tampons – seems you might be PMSing."

Daryl shoved him away with a snarl, breathing hard, a little amazed at what he'd just done. He'd held a knife to Merle's throat and his older brother had given in. _Given in. _Not beaten him to a pulp. Daryl took a deep breath to calm his shaking hands and, when he was steady, threw a few last camping items into the duffle. Merle had already cleared the gun cupboard of the guns and ammo, save for Daryl's handgun and his crossbow. Daryl loaded the clip of his handgun and switched the safety on, tucking it into his belt. He paused a moment at the crossbow, wondering if it would be any use, then threw all the bolts he had into the duffle before shouldering the weapon.

The truck was already running when Daryl stepped outside. He threw the duffle into the back of the pick-up, where Merle had somehow managed to get his bike strapped into the truck bed on his own. Daryl kept the gun and crossbow on him, laying the gun on the seat between him and Merle and holding the crossbow between his legs. Merle had his 12-guage resting against the seat as well.

"You're bringing that old thing?" Merle asked, glancing at the crossbow. "What, you gonna kill us some squirrels to eat? Maybe a songbird or two?"

Daryl refused to rise to the bait. _Merle had given in when Daryl drew the knife._ "We only got so much ammo. Might need something that we can reuse, or at least replace easy. We only got so many empty bullet casings we can reload."

Merle just snorted and started to back out the drive. Daryl looked at the house, the old decrepit thing with its sagging roof and cracked foundation. Watched the bodies of his old hound and his dad and his dad's girlfriend grow smaller and then disappear with the house around the bend of the drive.

He worried for a moment that Merle wouldn't keep his promise, would turn away and flee into the woods rather than head towards town to Nana's house. But Merle whipped the truck around when they reached the county road and headed into town. A few cars dotted the side of the road heading out of town, all empty. Poor idiots must have run out of gas. There were no other cars heading into town.

They drove in silence, windows rolled down and hot summer air streaming through the truck in place of the broken air conditioning. They passed a few dead, but Daryl didn't bother to take a shot at them. They couldn't hurt them in the truck. It wasn't long before they reached Nana's drive, and Merle turned down it, slowing the truck to a near crawl on the pot-holed dirt road.

Nana's house was quiet, and Daryl picked up his gun before he left the truck.

"You got five minutes," Merle told him. "I'm gonna turn this fucker around and wait that long, and if you and her ain't out of that house by then, I'm leaving you behind."

"Okay," Daryl agreed, switching the safety off. "Five minutes."

The front door was locked, but he walked around the porch and found the back door open. One of the dead was roaming the living room and he sighed a breath of relief that it wasn't Nana as he shot it. But the fear curled in his belly and he couldn't help but holler. "Nana! Nana!"

A noise down the hall startled him, until he realized it was the sound of a lock being opened. "Daryl? Is that you?"

A huge grin broke out on his face. He couldn't help it. He flicked the safety off his gun and tucked it back into his belt. "Nana!" he yelled again, rushing around the corner to the hall. He swept her up in his arms, crushing her to him, and it was then that he noticed the heat coming off of her small body.

"Daryl?" This time her voice sounded weak and thin, confusion evident in her voice, and his world dropped out from under him.

He swallowed back the bile that threatened to rise in his throat. "Nana, what's wrong? Merle and me, we're here to take you with us. Get you out." Maybe it was his imagination. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Daryl?" she repeated. "I don't feel so good. And Mr. Richards next door, I think he's sick too. He's always been such a kind man, but he bit me. On the arm. I had to force him out of my room and then he just kept trying to get in. I don't know what's wrong with him."

She showed Daryl her arm, and his heart sank even further. "Oh, Nana." It was all he could say.

His Nana stumbled then, bracing herself against the wall. Her face was pale, and it made her many wrinkles and her gray hair stand out all the more than usual. "I see death," she mumbled, before straightening slightly and looking him in the eye. "Are you and Merle going somewhere? I hope you'll write."

Daryl punched the wall, punched it so hard it left a dent, and left his knuckles bleeding. He felt bad when Nana flinched, her face somehow paling even further under the flush of fever. He couldn't look her in the eye.

"We'll write," he promised. Like it would make up for scaring her. Like it would make up for being too late. For doing what he had to do.

"Good, good. Come 'ere my boy." She pulled him in close, hugging him. "You're like a son to me. You're a good man. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." She tilted her head up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Her lips were dry and cracked and burned against Daryl's skin. Like the tears burned in his eyes.

She sagged back against the wall, and it was all Daryl could do to catch her before she went all the way to the floor. "I don't feel well. Can you help me back to bed?" she asked.

"Sure," Daryl agreed, thinking of dad, of Cheri, of Mr. Richards who Nana said had been a good man. He drew the gun from his belt and flicked the safety off.

Merle was still waiting outside when it was done. It had been at least eight minutes. Daryl had looked at his watch.

"Heard gun shots. Two of 'em. Almost left you," Merle said in greeting when Daryl slid into the passenger seat beside him. "There dead inside?"

"Yeah," Daryl grunted, looking at the gun in his hands. He vowed to use his crossbow as much as possible from now on. That way, he wouldn't have to remember.

"Where's the old woman?" Merle asked, a sneer in his voice and on his face.

"Nana's not coming," Daryl answered. "Let's go."

And so they did.

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><p>The fifth time surprised him.<p>

He was hurting and tired, but the pain and the nausea kept him awake, lying there in that bed thinking about where Sophia might be, about how lost and scared he'd felt when he'd been in her shoes.

And then Carol came and kissed him on the cheek and all he could say was "Watch out, I got stitches," because he didn't need her pity or her attention. He didn't need anybody, because if he didn't need anybody than nobody needed him.

And then she started talking about how he was a good man, and he knew it was bullshit because if he was a good man, he would've found little Sophia by now, and how could she say that when all he'd done so far was fail? When all he'd done his whole life was fail at the things that were important? Failed at saving his brother, both from himself and from that rooftop, failed at saving his old loyal dog that never had a name, failed at saving Nana, and Sophia.

So fuck Carol. Fuck them all. He wasn't a good man and he never would be one.

Carol turned off the light when she left him to his thoughts, but he didn't sleep.

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><p>The sixth one surprised him too. Mostly because he liked it.<p>

"I told you," Carol said, melting against him, pinning him to a tree, and for once he found he didn't mind being held captive. "I want a man of honor."

Her hands were soft and gentle, yet firm and sure as she guided his lips to hers. Her lips were sweet and her smile genuine when he accidently bit her tongue.

"You might be a good man, but I think we need to work on your kissing," she teased. "I know an excellent teacher."

The seventh one he liked even better. And he was pretty sure Carol enjoyed that one too.

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><p><strong>End note:<strong> I'm still working on A Time for Healing – I promise! New chapter should be ready in a few days. Also, the title is from the Josh Ritter song of the same name. It came on my iPod just as I was trying to figure out what to name this fic after it was finished, and it fit pretty well.


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